His foot slipped from the stirrup and his hand moved subtly from the hilt of his sward three inches behind where it rested on the butt of his rifle. If all hell broke loose, he would be ready to raise a little hell of his own before he met his maker. For a second the image of Vicky and the children standing on the porch waving him off flashed in his mind before he forced it away. It was imperative he not lose his focus.
If this meeting, which appeared to be going well, suddenly turned, Quin would need all of his attention on the here and now to stay alive. Because as he'd sat thinking he'd spotted over three dozen more distortions in their surroundings. It was difficult to see far in peripheral but he saw enough to know they were probably surrounded...and if this meeting turned badly, the pony soldiers would not leave this place alive.
Suddenly the meeting was over. Quin's attention was divided between the two men (the scout stepped aside long ago, when it became apparent his translation skills weren't needed) and the dozens of distortions around them. His heart stopped and he could almost feel the weight of the gazes fixed upon him, no doubt from behind bows pulled taught, notched and ready.
Their esteemed visitor turned and walked back to his pony even as Kit did the same. Turning your back on the enemy was a show of trust and of confidence. Neither feared an attack from the other. Quin let his gaze scan the surroundings and he wished he felt half as confident as Kit mounted and backed his horse next to Quin.
"Now we'll see if we can reverse some of the harm Barkley and others like him have caused. I managed to convince him that he should return with his people before the sun is there."
Squinting to where Kit pointed, he made a mental note...about ten o'clock they would know if they were to live or die this day.
"Think they will comply?"
"I think so." Kit scrunched his face and scratched his scruffy chin.
"I hope so." Kit said at last.
Quin only nodded as they turned their mounts. Kit ordered camp and Quin let his thought roam as he saw to his duties. He knew Kit's spirits were low, indeed, none of them were particularly jubilant to be traipsing about through the deep snow. He harbored no doubts that the men would rather be home with their families or at the very least, comfortably holed up in the comfort of the fort.
He and Kit had more than one conversation about home...if wishes were currency they'd be rich men. Kit thought this particular mission was a waste of time but orders had come down from "the general" as Kit referred to Carleton when he was displeased with the man (which was often enough).
Kit was of the opinion that the scorched earth, along with the men already taken captive or killed was enough. There simply weren't enough men left to warrant the scope of this mission. Jonah shivered beneath him, as if to remind him that the men weren't the only ones dissatisfied with the status-quo. Quin looked once more at the man he had come to know simply as Kit.
It was difficult not to admire him. Despite the fact that his military training and his personal experience and views went contrary to the orders, he did not waiver. Ever the good and loyal soldier, he carried out the mission to the best of his ability. He kept his displeasure to himself, except for Carleton and a few well-chosen peers. The men beneath them saw only loyal obedience to orders.
He pulled out his watch and looked around. Everyone was settling down for the wait and as he loosened the cinch and lifted the saddle from Jonah he added his prayer to the many he knew were going up. Please let this be the end of it.
---
Some men paced or whittled. Some stared at their fires or talked. Some took an inordinate amount of time over the mundane. All of them kept an anxious eye on the time. The anxiety increased as the minutes passed and ten o'clock approached. Would the Navajo come? Would the solemn promise and personal guarantee of their esteemed commanding officer, the great Kit Carson, be enough to secure an end to this conflict?
Slowly it became apparent that it was.
There were sixty that came stating simply through their translator that they were willing to go to the white man's fort. Bosque Redondo. Quin felt the heavy burden of guilt and sorrow as he walked through the camp to assess their needs. The people were in various stages of starvation and exposure. Many were very ill. Quin wished it had not come to this as he helped to carry a pregnant woman who was so ill she couldn't stand.
He was ashamed to see the resolve on their faces as they walked toward the camp, no doubt believing they were being herded to their deaths. He was proud of his men though, when he saw how careful they were to offer meat and blankets and help where they could. Lord, he'd seen enough of war in his life and this was nearly enough to break him.
Orders came through the camp. These sixty were not prisoners. They were to be sent back with extra food and blankets so that they could take word to the rest of the people. Return to the fort in ten days' time. A few were too sick to return. These Kit allowed to stay. In the morning the sick were set upon travois and returned with the men to Fort Canby.
Except for two companies of mounted soldiers that were ordered north through the canyon on a final scorched earth march. They were to destroy villages and crops, capture any animals, and peacefully accept the surrender of any willing Navajo they encountered. After four long days the fort came into view and a cheer went through the ranks. The fort never looked as good as it did right then to the exhausted men in the main column.
Two days later the Navajo started to arrive and within a week the Companies returned with their reports. Kit summoned Quin to hear them and when he returned to his quarters after doing so, he decided that Kit was right. There was nothing left to burn or capture. The trip had been a colossal waste of their time and resources. The only one that seemed pleased was "the general".
Quin stomped the snow from his feet before going into his room. He hung his hat and tunic to dry as it had begun to snow again and he'd no wish to wear a damp uniform. Instead he grabbed a small quilt Vicky sent with him last Christmas and threw it around his shoulders as he stuffed a log into the small pot-belly stove.
It wasn't near enough to warm the place. With a shake of his head he huffed on his fingers before rubbing them briskly together. While he could still feel his fingers he pulled out his writing things and sat down to write a long over-due letter to his family. He had no idea how long he'd be here before "the general" sent them on another "errand".
---
Vicky's heart ached as she sat in her rocker and looked toward the mountain. She was so glad to be home again, nestled here on Arrow Q so close to her beloved mountain. But when she saw the snow on peaks her thoughts never failed to turn toward Quin. She sighed and pulled her quilt closer around her. She shouldn't even be out here.
The children were sick, and even with Bo and the man-of-the-house to help, well she was exhausted and decided to sneak out here for a few minutes alone without the sniffling and whimpering. At last they'd fallen asleep and she'd stolen away to the quiet of the porch. She always felt at peace here in this rocker watching the light dance on her mountain.
The dogs drew her attention to the road and the rider coming. It wasn't a rider. It was a team which means it was probably Pappy and Katie come to visit. She hadn't been to Church in near a month now since the children took turns being ill. Vicky hoped she'd stay a few days. Mama wanted her mother! With a smile she stood and leaned on the post while her hand slipped into her pocket...just in case she was wrong. She was delighted a few minutes later to be right.
"Daughter of mine, how are you doing?" Katie asked as she let Pappy help her down.
She turned her affections on Vicky with a hug and more questions. Slipping her arm over Katie's shoulders they walked toward the house while Louie and Pappy unloaded the wagon. Vicky knew there would be gifts for the children and lots of food. Katie always brought food. She smiled as she though how much Jebb would appreciate her Irish stew.
"We're here to stay a few days me Darlin'." Katie smiled warmly as she headed straight for the stove. "I know you're not getting your rest with so many sick ones about. It wouldn't do at all for you to be getting sick yourself. So you just let Pappy and me take over for a spell. Why don't you get a tray of tea and go rest a spell?"
"Katie, you don't—" a stern look made her stop. "Thank you."
She turned as Pappy came in and decided to wait a moment to at least welcome him. When he and Louie had deposited their loads on the table, Louie went for more but Pappy paused to hug Vicky.
"Daughter it's good to see you." He winked and pulled small book from his pocket. "Shakespeare sonnets. I ordered it special for you and it came today with those."
He pointed and she realized there were letters stuffed in between the pages. Letters were a rare treat since the war started. Even though the new was often months out of date, it was so nice to see how the ones she loved fared despite all the distance and this war between them.
"Eddie, you give the lass her kiss and be done with it. I've sent her off to bed to rest a bit. Come help me now. We've got to sort this out and then see to the children—"
"Oh, Katie, the children are asleep at last. They should sleep a few hours since they kept each other up late coughing and sniffling and...well, you know." She smiled and turned as Katie put her hands on her hips and frowned. "I'm going as soon as I pour a cup of—"
"I'll bring you a tray. Now off with ya before I have to take a strap to yer hide. Don't think I won't." Her words were stern but her eyes glowed warmly as her lips turned up in a smile.
"Thank you Mama Katie." She reached out for another hug and was only briefly indulged before Katie shooed her down the hall toward her room.
Tucked safely away she slipped out of her boots and stoked the fire before crawling under the covers to read her news. One letter from Visalia. She didn't recognize the hand and wrinkled her nose as she thought it might be Janelle. The other was from Quin and her frown deepened. Reaching for the letter from California again she broke the seal and looked at the signature.
"Penelope?" But the handwriting?
My dearest friend.
I am afraid my writing is suffering the effects of my fatigue. My hand won't stop trembling but I needed to tell you. Illness has taken our camp. The poor doctor is a weary shell of himself worn to the bone from caring for the men. I've been helping since dear Henry...Oh, Vicky. I fear so for him. I don't know if he has the strength to fend off the illness this time.
He was ill earlier, when the sickness first came with the New Year. He recovered quickly but pressed himself back into service far too soon. Being commanding officer he felt duty bound. Oh, I have come to despise that word for it might take him away from me!
I do ramble on and my hand trembles more! I must be quick. I need to rest a little before I go back to the infirmary.
You must not fear for our Little Tomas is unaffected. When the illness first came to our camp, Henry bid me send the infant to town to stay with a family he trusts there. I am so very glad he did, else I may have lost the dear boy too for he is not yet six months!
Send my love to Rueben. Tell him that his brother Tomas reminds me of him when he was but small. He and his brother share a smile and it warms my heart to think of them both. I should like to visit in the spring, perhaps when this sickness leaves us. Yes, that would be the thing. When this illness...Oh.
I can't be so false. There is hope and there is folly. Vicky, pray. Please pray. I fear that the only way my dear Henry will recover is if the Lord gives me another miracle. But then...I have Tomas.
I must go. I am afraid I have worked myself into quite a bother and I will ruin the page with my tears. Pray, my dearest friend. Pray for us.
Your faithful friend,
Penelope
Vicky let her hands drop as her tears fell and her book of Shakespeare and her letter from Quin were quite forgotten for the moment as she clasped her hands in prayer and petitioned the Lord to favor her friend.
Katie found her thus and Vicky looked up long enough to point to the letter before returning to her prayer. She felt the mattress dip a moment later as Katie sat next to her. Like a little child she curled up against Katie's bosom and wept while Katie wrapped her with the love and comfort that only a mother can give.
If her heart ached for Penelope and dear Henry she had no time to show it since that first day she cried like a child. And dear Katie, bless her heart, had just held her, stroked her hair, and told her that 'everything will work out for the best'. If Vicky had thought about it then she might have thought it odd that Katie didn't say 'everything will be okay'. But maybe Katie was right?
Not everything bad that happens ends up badly. Vicky would never have known dear Jebb and Moses if it hadn't been for that horrid Jodie and his cronies. If those slave traders hadn't shown up Cato might still be running instead of living free and earning wages. If Anna and Señora Capitan had lived, Vicky would not have known little Naomi Beth.
She could think of many ways that life's hardships had turned into blessings for her and with June just a few months away, she suddenly remembered another. Zeke White was like the brother she never had...until Bo showed up. She hoped Zeke and Bo would get along, that Zeke would be able to look past the fact that Bo was southern born.